


The Center

by elisetales



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Fluff and Angst, Friendship, Kissing, M/M, Sleepy Cuddles, i don't know what i'm trying to say with this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-08-10
Updated: 2013-08-16
Packaged: 2017-12-23 00:24:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,583
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/919798
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/elisetales/pseuds/elisetales
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><i>Eren is where Armin finds his strength, and without him Armin knows he cannot fight.</i> Armin and Eren reunite after Eren's rescue.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Because I can't stop thinking about what makes Armin tick.

For as long as Armin can remember, Eren has been the center of his universe; the fixed point around which he's based every significant decision of his life. Armin has never had much to pride himself on other than his intelligence, and he's thus aware his emotional investment in Eren is both a foolish and dangerous one.

Tonight they have delivered Eren from almost certain death for what feels like the thousandth time. Armin has to wonder if this time will be the last; if next time the enemy will win and manage to take Eren away from him for good; somewhere Armin can't possibly follow. Each day he lives in fear of that and fear of him - of what it will mean to lose him - even as he desperately loves him, needs him close.

But he's tired of being afraid. And if this is what it means to love, there’s a part of him that violently rebels; wishes he wasn't capable of it at all. Because love isn't wise, and Armin isn't sure how it is he can justify such a foolish attachment to another person - even Eren - when he knows it makes him weak, tired and afraid.

This is war, and so far it's taught them only that they are expendable; that their attachments to one another are meaningless in the scheme of things, and that if mankind has a hope in hell of victory then sacrifices must be made, emotional attachments abandoned. Armin wishes he could be wiser about this, removed and more like Commander Erwin; and yet for Armin a world without Eren is already a world without hope. Eren is where he finds his strength, and without him Armin knows he cannot fight.

He watches Eren sleep in the soft light of the tent. The fire's still crackling outside, and Armin can hear most everyone still awake, huddled around its warmth, drinking and talking and even laughing. He tears his gaze from Eren just a moment and looks to the sealed entrance of the tent where he can still make out Mikasa's steady shadow, standing guard outside. Her presence lends him a comfort that shames him. He always feels safer with her around; even if it means she hasn't eaten or slept in days. He comforts himself with the knowledge she'd only refuse it if Armin tried to push her to eat or sleep. She won't leave Eren's side until he's awake and she's seen him for herself; until she's certain he's safe, and still her Eren.

Eren stirs when he's not looking, and Armin's heart skips a beat as he hears him groan.

"Eren?" He tries to keep his voice a low whisper, isn't sure what damage Eren has suffered and if he'll even recognize him as Armin at all.

"Armin?"

Armin releases a breath, and his tense limbs soon relax. "Eren..."

Eren swallows thickly, coughs and groans again. It's a long time before he speaks, and when he does it's just, "So you found me, then." Flat and obvious and totally Eren, and Armin's relieved beyond measure to hear him sound like himself again.

"Of course we did. I promised you we would, didn't I?"

"Armin," Eren says again, and Armin waits for the words he's sure will follow, only nothing else comes.

"How are you feeling?" Armin asks in the absence of further conversation.

"Sore," Eren admits. "Confused, I guess. Hungry. Stupid. How long has it been, anyway?"

Armin sits up on his elbows a little, until he's sure Eren can see his face. "Three months," he replies, a little cautiously. The light catches Eren's throat and Armin watches him swallow.

"Three months, huh?” Eren pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out a slow breath. “Didn't feel like that long."

"No, I expect not," Armin agrees. "We think they were keeping you unconscious a lot of the time." Eren makes a noncommittal noise and Armin quickly adds, "But we don't have to talk about that right now. You're here and you're safe and that's the most important thing. I expect they'll want to question you tomorrow, but try not to worry too much about it yet; I'm sure Mikasa won't let them anywhere near you until you've got your strength back."

A smile tugs at Eren's lips at that, and he says, "Mikasa. Where is she? Can I see her?"

As if on cue, the tent parts and there she is, hunched over and pushing her way inside, blades rattling awkwardly on her hip. She stands over Eren for a moment, eyes wide and shining, and breathes, “Eren.” She collapses onto him a moment later, ignoring Armin’s weak protests that she might hurt him, and holds him close to her, pulls his body up like it’s nothing and clutches him to her chest.

Eren doesn’t even grumble about it, or complain of being suffocated. He grips her tightly in his arms, holds her right back, and they embrace for so long Armin begins to wonder if he should quietly exit, go and fetch Eren something to eat and drink, inform their superiors he’s awake and give the two of them some privacy.

Vaguely, he wishes he’d thought to put his arms around Eren himself, the very moment he’d noticed he’d woken, though he’s sure now his moment has passed and that it’ll only be uncomfortable for Eren if he tries. He wriggles out from under his pile of blankets then and leaves them alone without interrupting.

* * *

Mikasa doesn’t leave until Eren pushes her into it, blithely remarks on how awful she looks when she hasn’t eaten, slept or bathed. Armin knows Mikasa doesn’t care about such things and yet eventually she succumbs to Eren’s demands and leaves to go and find some herself some food, maybe even sleep for a little while. She assures Eren she’ll be back early in the morning, though, and makes him promise he’ll get some rest. She squeezes Armin’s shoulder on her way out.

“Are you still hungry?” he asks once they’re alone again. He sits up beside Eren with his knees drawn to his chest, watching Eren as he lies back against the pillows with his hands tucked beneath his head.

“No,” Eren answers without looking at him. And then, “Have you eaten?”

“Mm-hm.”

Eren turns to appraise him then, narrows his eyes and remarks, “You’re different, you know.”

Armin blinks. “What do you mean?”

“I don’t know,” Eren evades, in a way that causes Armin to suspect he really does know. “Stronger, I guess. I mean - not that you weren’t before, it’s just… I don’t know, it’s different now. While you were gone Mikasa told me about everything that’s been going on over the past three months. You’re the reason the mission was successful—the reason they were able to save me. They all really respect you, you know. And I know Mikasa does. I do, too. I’m proud of you.”

Armin feels the tips of his ears burn hot. “I helped with the strategy,” he admits, aware he sounds a little breathless now, “but it wasn’t all me. If it weren’t for Mikasa and Captain Levi, there’s no way we’d have had the time to get you out. They were both amazing.”

“Mm.” Eren turns away from him again, looking up at the ceiling of the tent. It’s a while before he pats the empty space beside him and says, “Come down here, Armin; it’s cold.”

Armin does, pulls the blankets up over his legs and lies down next to Eren without hesitation. His heart pounds inside his chest, though he’s sure it’s just the residual adrenaline keeping him wired; the stress of the day they’ve had - the excitement of having Eren back with them again; of finally gaining some sort of victory over the enemy, however small.

A few more minutes pass in silence before Eren says, “You look different, too.”

Armin finds himself frowning, immediately self-conscious. The past few months haven’t been kind to any of them - sleep, food and peace has been in scarce supply, and Armin isn’t sure why it bothers him so much that Eren’s noticed, but it does. “Oh,” he says, and swallows around the dryness in his throat.

Eren rolls over to face him and says, “I didn’t mean it like that.” His voice is surprisingly gentle. “Your hair’s longer.” He touches the ends of it, and Armin jumps at the sudden contact.

“Oh! Well I, uh, haven’t had time to cut it,” Armin mutters, and clears his throat.

“I like it like this,” Eren soon decides, and lets his hand drop between them. Armin isn’t sure if he’s being honest or just trying to flatter him, make up for some perceived debt he feels he owes, which would be all too much like Eren.

“You _are_ thin, though,” Eren says, before Armin can comment on it. “Are you eating?”

“As much as everyone else,” Armin says honestly.

“Hm. So in other words, not enough. Don’t worry,” he adds then, sounding determined, “I’m here now. I’ll make sure you have enough. I’ll make it up to y—”

“Eren, don’t. You don’t have to make up for anything; having you back is reward enough.” He can feel Eren’s eyes on him at that, and he rolls over onto his side to face him. There’s not as much room between them as he’d calculated, though, and the space between their faces suddenly seems alarmingly scant.

Eren doesn’t move to pull away, and neither does Armin. They stare at one another for a moment, and Armin notes that Eren’s eyes are unnaturally green, even in the semi-dark. He notes too that Eren is decidedly  _not_  thinner - he’s broader in the shoulders, even; a little taller, and looks more or less healthy. It’s a comfort, at least, to know his kidnappers hadn’t starved him.

“I’m sorry, Armin,” Eren tells him.

“What are you sorry for?”

“Everything. Dragging you into this. Nearly letting you get yourself killed for me. Again. That’s all I ever do, anyway. Get people killed… Force them into having to come save my ass…”

“You didn’t drag me into anything,” Armin says shortly. “None of this is your fault; it’s theirs. And I don’t regret helping save you. It wasn’t a chore, Eren. I know you’d do the same for me.”

“Yeah,” Eren says, “I would. Only difference is, you’re worth saving.”

“Eren—”

Eren catches Armin's wrist then, cutting off further reply. “You flinch when I touch you,” he quietly observes.

Armin can feel his face starting to get hot again. “I do?”

Eren shuffles closer, and Armin finds himself leaning away from him, startled and confused and unsure what Eren means by any of it. Eren laughs at him a little, though it sounds forced. “See? Just like that.”

“Oh.” Armin swallows thickly, wishes his heart would stop pounding so hard. He struggles to catch his breath. “Guess you startled me, is all.”

Eren presses his palm into Armin’s so that they’re holding hands, just the way they’d done when they were little boys. “Does it frighten you now?” he asks.

Armin frowns and tries to focus on their clasped hands in the dark. “Does what frighten me?”

“Me. Being close to me like this. Knowing what I am.”

It takes Armin a few seconds to realize what he means. When he does, he just says, “What? Eren, no. I could never be afraid of you.”

“No?”

“No,” Armin says again, and he means it. He’s forced again to wonder what Eren has been through over the past few months, what sort of poison his captors have been feeding into his mind, and he feels at once angry and sick over it, desperate to hunt them all down and see to it they receive their justice.

“Good.”

Before Armin can say another word Eren is pulling on his arm, with such strength and ease that Armin topples over ungracefully onto his chest.

“Eren!”

Eren looks up at him, an unreadable sort of smirk on his face. “What?”

“What do you think you’re doing?” Armin demands in an unsteady voice.

“I haven’t seen you in three months,” Eren casually explains. The powerful thud of his heartbeat against Armin’s chest is all that gives him away. “Maybe I wanted to hug you, too. Like I did with Mikasa.”

But this isn’t anything like it was with Mikasa, and Armin isn’t sure how he knows it but he does. “Oh. O-Okay, then…” He forces his body still when Eren puts his arms around his waist and buries his face in his neck, takes a deep breath and holds Armin there for what feels like a half hour. It's nice, Armin thinks, just different. Nothing like they've ever done before.

It’s impossible not to react with Eren this close - his belly pressed to Armin’s, lips so close to Armin’s neck. He’s sure Eren must feel it too, that he knows what he’s doing and has somehow figured out that Armin’s feelings for him differ somewhat from Mikasa's. Armin isn’t sure how - it’s the first time he’s acknowledged it, even to himself.

His suspicions are confirmed, though, when Eren lifts his head and his lips brush Armin’s jaw. He sighs and brushes Armin’s hair behind his ear, cups his cheek with a calloused hand and gently guides Armin’s face towards his. Armin’s breath catches when their lips touch. He’s never kissed anyone on the mouth before and isn’t sure what to expect. It’s nice, though - or at least it is with Eren. His lips are warm and soft and gentle as his touch.

Eren kisses his upper lip, sucks gently on the lower one and kisses him once more before he lets him go, sweeps Armin’s hair back from his face again. “You know, I’ve wanted to do that for three months,” he admits. He brushes Armin's lips with his thumb. 

“You have?” Armin asks between gasps of breath.

“Mm,” Eren admits, hand heavy and warm where it rests on the small of Armin’s back. Armin is suddenly aware that he’s between Eren’s legs, on top of him; of the minimal amount of clothing separating their naked bodies and what logically follows kissing. And Eren _can't_ want that.

Armin awkwardly clambers off of him and back to his own small pile of pillows and blankets, willing to let their brief little moment of insanity go unremarked upon if it'll spare them the awkwardness of a forced conversation about it. 

But Eren soon asks, “Are you pissed off?” and Armin is pushed to say, "No, just surprised." Among a million other things. 

“Come here, then,” Eren urges, tugging on the corner of Armin’s blanket, "I want to hold you." He puts an arm around Armin and pulls him flush against his body, sighs deeply and rests his forehead against Armin’s shoulder. He's quick to fall asleep and Armin soon follows, too exhausted to dwell on the significance of their kiss, of any of this, when Eren's finally been given back to him and along with him, all of Armin's hope.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Because I felt like writing more directionless/schmoopy Eremin flangst.

Eren’s good mood doesn’t last into the morning. He’s back to being surly and incorrigible by breakfast, although Armin, together with Mikasa, sticks close to his side regardless—it’s pleasantly surreal having him back at all, even when he’s like this. And Eren’s fluctuating moods are familiar, at least. He’s less now like the stranger he’d been the night before and more just  _Eren_ —Armin’s best friend and the angry boy he’s known all his life.

It’s easier this way, too, to ignore that anything out of the ordinary had passed between the two of them the previous night. Eren hasn’t mentioned it and Armin won’t either; he's happy to let the entire incident fade into distant memory if it’s what Eren wants; if it means he won’t turn that dark mood around on Armin, if Armin is indeed the cause of it. Eren had been understandably exhausted after his ordeal—possibly delirious, too—and Armin knows it would be unwise to read anything else into it. He’s unwilling to let it come between them. But when Eren gets up from the table and storms out of the mess without so much as a backwards glance, Armin has cause to wonder if it already has. 

“He’s afraid,” Mikasa says once he’s gone, startling Armin so that he drops his spoon.

“I can tell,” he agrees after a short pause. He watches the open doorway should Eren appear in it once more, and absently stirs his lukewarm mug of tea. “He doesn’t have anything to worry about, though. Does he?” A tiny thread of panic tugs at him when he meets Mikasa’s eyes. She looks as uncertain as Armin feels.

“Not if he tells them the truth. All he can do is tell them the truth. And if they refuse to trust him again then we'll figure things out from there.”

Armin silently agrees, though it doesn’t help his nerves any. He wishes he could be in there with Eren as he’s being questioned. He knows he can’t offer him much in the way of protection, though he could at least attempt to prevent Eren’s temper getting the best of him, discourage him from saying anything unwise which might push their superiors to make a hasty decision. The last thing Armin wants is to have Eren in chains again like an animal—or worse, put down like one. But he reasons he’ll just have to trust Eren will keep his temper out of this; that he’ll be rational, as scared and uncertain as he undoubtedly is.

Armin gets up from the table when Mikasa does and follows her out into the courtyard. He hasn’t felt this useless, aimless or without direction in months. It’s begun to drizzle; the cobblestone underfoot is slick with rain, and Armin, failing now to pay much attention to his surroundings, slips and loses his footing. Mikasa’s too quick to let him fall—her arm shoots out and she grabs his wrist, rights him and takes his hand in hers. She doesn’t let go once he’s steady on his feet again, and they hold hands as they wander back to the camp in silence.

* * *

He doesn’t see Eren again until late that afternoon and even then, it’s Armin who must seek him out. Eren’s avoiding them, hiding out in the forest for whatever reason, and Armin decides it’s as good a time as any to find out what had happened during the questioning. Giving him the space to be angry on his own is no longer an option—not when the fates of all three of them hang on what was decided for Eren during that meeting.

He’s as deep into the forest as their boundaries permit by the time Armin finds him. He doesn’t turn around when Armin approaches, though he’s surely noticed his presence. Armin stands there for a little while, rests his shoulder against the trunk of a tree and watches him. He’s sitting on a fallen log, shoulders hunched and head bent, stabbing at the damp earth with a stick. Armin can hear him sniffling, muttering to himself, and presumes he’s probably crying.

“Eren.” Armin announces his presence as gently as he can, slowly approaches and stands behind him, a safe distance away. When Eren won’t acknowledge him, Armin sighs and steps over the log to sit down beside him, rests his chin in his palm and watches for a few minutes as Eren continues to viciously stab at the earth.

“You can’t kill it, you know,” he points out, looking pointedly at the stick.

“I wish it was his face,” Eren spits, and Armin frowns.

“Whose? Corporal Levi’s?” Armin can’t think of anyone else who might have inspired this reaction in Eren, someone who commands enough of his respect to have reduced him to angry tears.

“Yeah,” Eren says, and wipes his nose with his sleeve. He rubs at his eyes, too; leaves the skin around them red and blotchy. Armin notices a developing bruise on the right side of his face and quickly deduces at least part of what’s likely taken place.  

“You don’t mean that, Eren.”

“Yeah I do!” Eren bristles. “You weren’t there, Armin. You don’t know what he did.”

Armin bites his lip and hesitantly touches Eren’s forearm. “So tell me.” He’s relieved when Eren doesn’t jerk away from his touch.   

“I overheard some of them talking after the interrogation,” Eren starts, and it troubles Armin that he phrases it this way, though he refrains from commenting on it just yet. “One of them said— They said I’m a liability. That maybe the pros don’t outweigh the cons and perhaps they should hand me over to the Military Police after all. And all the time he didn’t say a word; he just  _sat_  there. He doesn’t care whether I live or die, Armin. He’ll probably sign my execution warrant himself, the little bastard.”

“Oh, Eren…” Armin squeezes Eren’s arm, isn't sure what else he can say that’ll comfort him. Eren looks up to the Corporal, and Armin is aware how deeply this must have hurt him, even if he’ll never admit it. He asks, “Well what then? Did you speak to him at all?”

Eren starts stabbing the ground again. “Yeah,” he mumbles. “I caught up to him once everyone else had left. I asked him.”

“You mean you yelled at him.”

“I  _asked_  him,” Eren repeats, though his voice is rising even now, “if he’s going to just sit back like a coward and let them sell me out! He knows how important I am—he knows how much they  _need_  me!”

“And what then?” Armin asks in a small voice, though he’s fairly sure he doesn't need the answer.

“And then nothing,” Eren mutters. “He wouldn’t give me a straight answer. He just called me an entitled little shit and told me to mind my own business; to let  _him_  handle it. And then he hit me.”

“He hit you?” Armin feels an unwelcome surge of anger on behalf of his friend—Corporal Levi’s methods of ‘disciplining’ Eren have never sat particularly well with him.

“Yeah, but who cares.”

“I care,” Armin says.

Eren pulls his arm out from under Armin’s hold and takes his hand instead. “Yeah, I know,” he says. He brushes his thumb back and forth across Armin’s knuckles. He sounds defeated now, too exhausted to stay angry.

“Will you come back to camp with me?” Armin asks hopefully.

“No. Not yet. I don’t want to run into him again.”

“You’ll have to talk to him sooner or later, Eren. And I know you don’t want to hear this, but next time you might want to try a different approach with him…?” He's reluctant to tell Eren what to do and yet forces himself because he knows it's what Eren needs to hear. Eren trusts him to always give him the truth.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know what I mean, Eren. Perhaps try being a little less hostile?”

“After he sat back and agreed to let them do whatever they want with me?” Eren yells. “After everything? He was the one who took responsibility for me, Armin, but the minute it doesn’t suit him—”

“You need to trust him, Eren,” Armin softly interrupts. Eren closes his mouth but continues breathing heavily through his nose. “I do,” Armin continues. “I don’t think he wants to sell you out. You’ll just have to trust he’ll do what’s best for you, and that whatever he said or did—it had a purpose behind it. Can you do that?”

“No. I don’t trust anyone apart from you. And Mikasa.”

“Well that’s foolish, Eren. You need to trust him, too. He’s only ever done what’s best for you. If any of us want to get out of this alive, we’re going to need him.”

“Blind faith is for idiots."

“Eren…”

“Fine,” Eren snaps.

Armin supresses a triumphant little smile and shifts over on the log then, until their knees are pressed together. He leans heavily into Eren’s side and rests his temple against Eren’s shoulder, closing his eyes and releasing a slow breath when Eren’s warm lips press against his forehead. For the first time since the day had begun, he feels as if he’s finally stopped to catch his breath.

“Hey,” Eren says. He nudges Armin’s leg.

When Armin lifts his head to look at him, Eren surprises him with another kiss. He holds Armin’s head in place with a hand cupping his cheek, coaxes his mouth open with his tongue and chuckles when Armin’s cheek grows hot against the palm of his hand.

“You’re embarrassed,” he remarks when they part. He stares at Armin’s lips then and smirks, and Armin tells himself he’d be annoyed if Eren didn’t look so stupidly fond of him.

“Yes,” he admits. His breath hitches in his chest and he swallows hard.

“Why? It’s only me.”

“It’s  _because_  it’s you.” Armin folds his arms against the cold and looks down at the dirt. He isn’t sure how to explain to Eren that he wants this at the same time he’s afraid of it.

“You don’t see me that way,” Eren guesses after a few moments.

“I didn’t say that.”

“Then what is it?”

“I…” Armin sighs and rubs the bridge of his nose. “Today, I… I thought you were upset about what happened. Last night, I mean. I wasn’t going to mention it again until I was sure you weren’t, but… I don’t want to have to worry about that, Eren. We’ve got enough to concern ourselves with, don’t you think?”

“I wasn’t upset about that,” Eren says. He picks up the stick and starts poking at the ground again. “I’m sorry if you thought I was. I just… I had a lot on my mind, Armin.”

“I know that. I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be. I understand what you’re saying. In the scheme of things, you don’t think it’s worth it. You don’t have the time for it.”

Armin opens and closes his mouth but can’t form the words, flustered and exasperated at being so horribly misunderstood. “Eren, I didn’t… I never said I didn’t have the time,” he tries. “I just meant that I don’t want it to be an added source of stress for either of us. I want to know for sure we’ll be alright. I can’t lose you.” His voice weakens at this, and Eren lifts a hand to brush the hair out of his eyes.

“Of course we’ll be alright,” he says gently. “We’ll always be alright. Nothing can come between us, I promise.”

This time when Eren kisses him, Armin relaxes into it, allows himself the privilege of actually enjoying it. He’s clumsy with inexperience but attempts to return Eren’s kiss with everything he’s got, lets his eager lips and hands show Eren how much he really  _does_  want it, even if a part of him remains convinced that getting even closer to Eren is a mistake; that it won’t end well for either one of them. He doesn't want to think about that. He lets Eren bundle him into his arms, pull him onto his lap, and decides then—with his lips on Eren’s, his hands tangled in his hair—that if they're going to do this, he'll need to keep _thinking_  well out of the equation. 

**Author's Note:**

> This is kind of ridiculous, but I couldn't help myself. There may be more to this, I'm not sure, but if there is, rating and tags will be adjusted accordingly!


End file.
